Bald bucket list: Terri Way gets surprise diagnosis at only 30 years old

Sunday

Oct 28, 2012 at 3:15 AMJun 12, 2013 at 2:48 PM

PORTSMOUTH — She stared at a small bathroom wastebasket full of her long, curly, red hair.

By JANINE MITCHELLjmitchell@fosters.com

Editor's Note: This is the last of a series of feature Sunday articles, highlighting October as Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

PORTSMOUTH — She stared at a small bathroom wastebasket full of her long, curly, red hair.

“It was horrifying to have handfuls of your own hair,” Terri Way said, “I was scared. I didn't want to look in the mirror.”

The Portsmouth resident was only 30 years old when diagnosed with breast cancer, living in New England with her family members half-way across the country.

The hardest part, Terri says, was not hearing the diagnosis, or having nausea from chemotherapy treatments, or even her multiple surgeries — it was shaving her head.

“I started losing my hair two weeks to the day after my first chemo treatment,” she said, “It was the first time I looked like a patient. Once you shave your head you have that classic 'chemo look.'”

Bucket list waits

While doing a routine monthly self-breast exam in the shower, Terri felt a lump. Being proactive on women's health, the more she checked, the more she realized something was wrong.

“In your 20s and 30s you don't think about (breast cancer). You don't think it's going to be you,” she said realistically.

Upon recently making a 'bucket list' of things to do during year 30, thinking she had her whole life ahead of her, questions circled Terri's mind; like ''What about fertility?,' and 'How will chemo make me feel?'

Terri's genetic rap sheet was clear of breast cancer.

“Why me?” she questioned, knowing some cases of breast cancer are genetic.

After a biopsy, the doctor called Terri saying she needed to come in the next day — not, “Lets book something in three weeks.”

“I knew it was coming,” she said, “You don't get that call and think it's nothing.”

Making the call

Terri says the whole day was a blur.

She remembers sitting alone in the waiting room, awaiting the news. With the office closing up and secretaries shuffling around preparing to go home to their families, Terri was the last appointment of the day. That was when the surgeon told her she, indeed, had breast cancer.

“The harder part was calling my family and friends and people who didn't even know I was getting tested,” Terri explained. Most of her family lives thousands of miles away and needed to put their trust in her to be honest about how she really felt.

“I think it was harder on my parents than it was on me,” she says, “They were always concerned, not being able to see me all the time.”

Terri is single, has no children and lives in the Northeast on her own.

Feeling blessed, she says, her parents came to all three of her surgeries and family and friends were at every chemotherapy treatment.

After undergoing a single-sided mastectomy, Terri says, the expander put in place of her breast tissue was hard and uncomfortable. Thankfully, it was replaced with a more natural silicone implant late this summer.

“When you look in the mirror, it's not all that different,” she laughs and says, “Well, except that I don't have a nipple.”

After Terri's implant was put into place, she says she feels more “normal” again and is better able to look forward.

A change in me

“I've become a much stronger person that I thought I was,” says Terri, “I cherish the relationships I have much more now (than I did before) and, the friends I didn't realize were such good friends.”

While engulfed in a journey that a 30-year-old wouldn't typically predict, Terri documented her story. Every chemo treatment and monumental moment is remembered with a photo and a short blog entry, which she turned into a breast cancer scrapbook.

While turning the pages of her scrapbook and watching the photos transform a youthful, thick haired young woman, to a tired and sunken-eyed patient, Terri explained her year-long road. Looking over it with gleaming blue eyes, short brown hair, and millions of warm freckles, she appeared happy and relieved it was all over.

“I've always been a fairly positive person. It's never really been an issue to try to take advantage of what I have,” she explained.

In the photos taped, glued and intricately displayed inside her breast cancer scrapbook, Terri still had light behind her eyes, and a soft smile. The images depict — what some may think as contradictory — a busy life of a cancer patient. She modeled in survivor fashion shows, attended galas, and walked for awareness while her team wore shirts stating “Save Second Base.”

“It's amazing to look back and think, 'I did a lot!' I was supposed to be sick,” claimed Terri.

Who budgets for cancer?

Though Terri says she had moments where the cancer “got her,” she never felt hopeless.

“Sometimes I was like, 'Gosh, this sucks.' But, I never had self pity” she explained, “It was more like, as a young adult, this was not how I envisioned my life. I didn't budget for cancer. You know?”

Thankfully, despite her $50 co-pays at most appointments, several times per week, an organization called My Breast Cancer Support, helped her tremendously with her financial burden.

The nonprofit organization offers financial support to breast cancer patients through gifts like grocery cards, tickets to the movie theater and restaurant gift certificates. However, Terri says, it's the emotional health they focus on that means the most, making sure she feels as “normal” as possible.

When her family came to visit during treatments or surgeries, she was able to take them to dinner, de-stress and enjoy their company, she said.

Like a sorority

The bonds Terri formed during her breast cancer journey are irreplaceable and she still stops in to see her oncology nurses, also known as her “chemo moms,” on a regular basis. She says without her family nearby, she has become incredibly close with them and they're the closest thing to it.

An important lesson the nurses during her breast cancer treatments taught her, she says, was to feel her feelings and never put on a show and fake feeling well.

A triumphant year has passed, holding many hard memories, and Terri's optimistic attitude is unwavering.

“It's like a sorority. You automatically have something in common with all of these women, and whether you're 30- or 70-years-old it doesn't matter,” she said conclusively, “At the end we're all surviving it.”